


Pride Was Never a Sin

by comtessedebussy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wing Kink, sub!Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comtessedebussy/pseuds/comtessedebussy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer, the bright Morning Star with fiery-colored wings, is never as magnificent as when he kneels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride Was Never a Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Pride Was Never a Sin PL](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111290) by [rossieash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rossieash/pseuds/rossieash)



> This is set in canon, with canon Sam and canon Lucifer, but I have no explanation for you for why in the world this happens. It’s just porn, make up the explanations as you will. Enjoy!

“Do you have wings?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. Sam looked down at the angel (for he was an angel, fallen or not) spread below him, a collar of sigils around his neck to ensure his obedience, as he asked.

“Yes.” A simple word, but it elicited a delicious excitement from Sam.

“Show me.”

“I can’t,” Lucifer replied, touching the collar around his neck. He looked into Sam’s eyes, a please for his trust.

Sam seemed undecided for a moment, considering. After some deliberations, he reached forward, unfastening the collar slowly. Having taken it off, he watched the fallen angel carefully, but Lucifer made no movements until Sam made a gesture. He rose from the bed, graceful as usual, and bowed his head, closing his eyes.

Immediately, his wings flared out; they didn’t fade slowly into view, but appeared as they unfurled, spreading and filling up the entirety of the room.

They were, if Sam had to describe him, the color of a sunrise. Lucifer was the Morning Star, the Bearer of Light, and his wings were the burning color of a rising sun- of a rising star. Mostly they were red, a color that was almost blood-red, fading into other shades of scarlet and vermilion and bloody orange. But they didn’t simply look the color of a sunrise; they _were_ a sunrise glowing slightly, breathtaking as a true sunrise.

Sam stared, He had never seen anything like it.

Lucifer lifted his bowed head, looking at Sam proudly. It was not the preening pride of a peacock. It was the self-assured pride of someone who knew he had something to be proud of. Lucifer had fallen for the sin of Pride, but, Sam thought, perhaps it was not a sin. Perhaps that pride was well-justified when it was the pride of such an angel as the magnificent Morning Star. Perhaps the true sin was in believing the fallen angel’s pride was misplaced.

He reached out to touch a wing gingerly, wondering if it would be possible to even feel them. Perhaps they were made of the light of a star, casting its morning rays. But, it turned out, he could touch. He ran his hand through the feathers. Surprisingly, despite their fire-colored feathers, they were cool to his touch, just a shade warmer than ice, and soft.

He watched in awe as Lucifer swayed, leaning into the touch. He continued trailing his hand through the feathers, watching as the angel’s lips parted. His eyes fluttered before closing partway.

“They’re sensitive,” Sam said, surprised.

“Yes.” Lucifer’s voice was hoarse with desire.

“You know what I want, don’t you?” Sam asked, running his thumb over a feather.

Lucifer didn’t answer, but assented wordlessly as chains melted into view behind him. They looked dark and heavy, attached to the wall behind him. Obediently, he folded his wings and waited.

Sam took up the chains. They were heavy in his hands and, he saw, had the same sigils inscribed into them as the collar. The sigils glowed faintly, a reminder of the fiery color of the angel’s wings.

He wound the chains around the angel’s wings several times, tightly. He saw Lucifer breathe out sharply, and there was something in his eyes, but he said nothing.

Sam took up the cuffs that had also melted into existence (somehow Lucifer had known exactly what he wanted). Silently, Lucifer offered one wrist, then another, as Sam attached a cuff to each one, then brought his hands behind his back to attach to the already chained wings.

Lucifer only needed a slight touch on the shoulder to drop to his knees Lucifer looked up at him, eyes bright. Sam looked down, and a shiver of arousal ran through him at the sight of the rebel angel kneeling before him. Lucifer blinked, continued to look at him expectantly.

He approached, taking out his cock and holding it inches from Lucifer’s lips. And still Lucifer looked at him, and offered no words, only parted lips. Sam ran a hand through the angel’s hair, tilting his head back and contemplating the vulnerable line of his throat. With a hand still in his hair, he tilted his hips forward, pushing in until he hit the back of the kneeling angel’s throat. Lucifer made no sound at that, either – evidently angels had no gag reflex (or need to breathe, it seemed). So much the better, then.

Holding the angel pressed against him with one hand, he ran a second through his wings and savored the sight of him shivering. Lucifer’s wings attempted to move, straining against the chains light a frightened bird attempting to fly away, as Sam teased them gently with light touches. He added some small pressure as he continued trailing his hand through the feathers, eliciting – _finally_ \- a sound. Lucifer moaned in the back of his throat as Sam’s hands continued playing with his wings, and Sam threw his head back, savoring the feeling each sound sent through his cock.

“They’re beautiful,” he said finally. He just couldn’t take his hands away. “I understand why they call you the Morning Star.” He trailed his hand along the edge of a feather. “The bearer of light,” he said softly, in awe. Lucifer moaned again, at the words or the feel of Sam’s fingers or both perhaps, sending another thrill of arousal through Sam.

It roused him from his stillness, and he began moving, thrusting out and then back in, slowly at first and then faster. Lucifer held his head still, accepting each thrust as it hit the back of his throat, his bright eyes encouraging. His mouth felt perfect, warm unlike the rest of the angel, so perfect for him. Sam tightened a hand in his hair. He had intended for this to last, but the sight of the kneeling angel, the feel of his lips, the sounds he still made, drove him forward, hard and fast, until he felt himself on the brink of an orgasm. He pulled out, looking into the angel’s eyes. Lucifer looked at him, eyes encouraging (though not pleading. Never pleading. There was still a step between obedience and begging).

With a quick thrust of the hand, he came. Lucifer opened his lips, catching the come as Sam spilled himself over his mouth and lips. He swallowed, licking his lips.

Lucifer rose from his knees, and Sam undid the chains holding his wings. He watched them unfurl as Lucifer let out a deep sigh.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, watching as something in Lucifer’s body relaxed. His wings rippled contentedly.

“Angel wings are sensitive,” he said softly. “Yes, Sam.”

“Then why did you let me-?”

Lucifer looked at him, silent.

Sam didn’t press. That knowledge, however, did not prevent him from repeating the experience. In fact, it was almost as if that fact provided an extra level of intoxication every time. Lucifer came to know when Sam wanted to see his wings, which was often. It was the way he ran a hand down Lucifer’s back that Lucifer had learned to interpret as a request. His wings would flare out obediently as soon as Sam’s hand left his skin, and the chains would fade into existence, the same as before. For some reason, that was the one way in which Sam enjoyed making the angel obey.

Lucifer was happy to let him.

 

 


End file.
